


Bloody Bruises

by officialmaknae



Series: All's Fair In Blood and War [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Bloodplay, Explicit Sexual Content, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Overstimulation, Possible Character Death, Praise Kink, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, This could be read as a one shot but i wrote a sequel so do whatever you want???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-07-18 22:19:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7332937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/officialmaknae/pseuds/officialmaknae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yifan is an immoral human being. Ask anyone even relatively familiar with current China - he's a serial killer that has mutilated bodies beyond recognition, with the numbers climbing steadily. He's smart, incredibly smart, which is why he has yet to be caught. He has no heart, but when he goes on a spree in Qingdao, he comes across a boy that makes him question his entire regime. However, mercy has never been Yifan's nature.</p><p> </p><p>"Aren't you scared of me?"</p><p>"Should I be?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloody Bruises

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from my account on AsianFanFics, which is posted here: http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/879066/

Zitao shrugged off his coat, the smooth leather material slipping off his arms like water as he hung it on the coat rack beside his apartment door. He kicked off his shoes, padding his way through his hallway to go to his room. It was late - _way past time for him to be in the bed_ \- but his friends had wanted to have a last escapade before he went back to Hong Kong for the second semester of his junior year at college. It was New Year's Eve, actually, a little past midnight, and the people in the streets below, he could see through his window, weren't planning on turning in any time soon.

It was a bit weird, honestly, for so many people to be out when there was a rampant serial killer taking victims nearly every other day. But he didn't really have room to talk while he himself had been outside only moments before.

He pushed open the door to his bedroom, more light spilling out into his vision. He always left the lamp on his bedside table on, and now he was grateful for it. He pulled off his clothes, about to swap them for his normal nighttime attire, but then a sudden ache in his mind made him hesitate. He hadn't showered before he went out, and he had been busy, what with all the laughing and the games and such. Did he really want to just go to bed smelly with sweat?

He grabbed the clothes he was going to change into and turned to his bathroom, closing and locking the bathroom door behind him. It wasn't that he was scared someone was going to walk in on him - he lived alone - but, _well_ , did he want to risk it?

Moments later, steam was fogging up the mirror and he was trying to get the hot water steaming down his back to make him relax. It was starting to work, and his eyes were becoming droopy, his thoughts slowing and turning sluggish.

His hand reached for the knobs of the shower, long fingers twisting around them to turn them in order to make the running water cease. He groped for his towel, shortly drying his inky hair and then turning the attention of it to his lean figure, trying to get all the water droplets that were attempting to evade the plush cloth. He tiredly pulled on his pajamas, which absolutely felt like a warm blanket after such an outing, and longingly made his way toward his bed. He collapsed onto it, reaching out towards a pillow for him to bundle up next to. But then he heard his phone ring.

Irritation shot up in his chest, but nonetheless, he raised up and went back through the hallway towards his coat. Halfway there, however, he stopped in his tracks.

His door was cracked. 

His eyes widened and he blinked.

It was still cracked, spilling light from the hallway onto the hard wood floors.

 _Fuck_.

He hurriedly reached his jacket, his hand closing around his phone as it stopped ringing. The sudden silence made him cringe, but the roar of his heart in his ears was deafening. He pushed the door closed slowly, waiting to hear the click of the door to confirm that it was actually closed this time, because of course, that had to be what it was, right? He just didn't close it properly.

He turned and started to walk back to his bedroom, a sudden urgency in the movements of his long legs. The sound of the pads of his feet against the floor way too loud for comfort, his breathing too labored for a task so simple. His eyes seemed to soak in everything they could. Nothing went unnoticed. It seemed as though his sense of sight had been heightened, or was it just the adrenaline? Either way, they buzzed around the small apartment as he scampered back to his room as quickly and quietly as he could.

His door was only ten feet away.

He fought the urge to sprint. He felt much like a child that had just turned out the lights of his bedroom and didn't want his feet to be eaten by monsters underneath his bed, or like the last person up the stairs at night. The back of his neck prickled and gooseflesh froze across his smooth skin. He could clearly see his bed unmade from where he had been laying barely a minute before and was it just him or _was the trip to his room taking much longer than usual_?

Something stirred in his peripheral vision and he ran, flinging his bedroom door open and slamming it closed behind him, making the walls rattle. He leaned heavily against it, his body tense and almost waiting to feel someone barge into it in an attempt to get inside, but there was none. The apartment was completely still and quiet, save for the harsh breathing coming from his nostrils.

The serene nature of the other side of the door made him anxious.

_There was someone in the apartment._

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ," Zitao hissed, hastily unlocking his phone and dialing 9-1-1.

The calm and collected voice of an operator answered. _"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"_

"I - Uh - I - I think there's someone in my apartment," he said, clenching his eyes closed at how incredibly stupid he sounded. He _thinks_?

 _"Sir, you_ think _there's someone in your apartment? Do you know for sure if there is?"_

"No," he answered. "But I saw something moving and my door - "

_"I need you to make sure that there's a threat before I dispatch officers, Sir. What's your name?"_

"Tao - Zitao," he replied.

_" Zitao, now, am I correct in assuming that you're locked in a room or bathroom?"_

"Yeah," Zitao nodded, swallowing a bit roughly. "I'm locked in my bedroom."

_"Okay. I know you're not going to want to do this, but I'm going to ask you to do something for me. We are a bit short on staff at the moment and I am only authorized to send officers to your location when we confirm a threat. I need you to look outside of your bedroom and tell me if you see anything out of the ordinary."_

A sick feeling twisted in his stomach. The hell with that. He was perfectly okay staying in his room until daylight, thank you very much.

Yet, his hand reached toward the doorknob and closed around the cool metal. He twisted it ever so slightly and slowly, peeking his eye around just enough to scan the area in eyesight. Despite it being exceptionally dark, everything seemed to be in order.

"I - I don't see anything."

 _"Do you think you can look around?"_ The operator inquired.

"What?" A shadow seemed to have adjusted itself, moving a miniscule amount, and Zitao's attention glued itself to it. "No. Hell no."

_"Sir, I need a confirmed threat in order for me to help you."_

Zitao felt the urge to curl into himself on the floor. Why couldn't they just send someone to him now? What did he have to do - have the intruder on top of him attempting to bludgeon him to death?

"Fine," he whispered, deciding to go out with a bang rather than a whimper and pulling the door open wide.

He fearlessly walked out, searching into the darkness and pulling aside curtains, moving couch cushions, even behind his shower curtain, but there was no one. Maybe he was just tired and needed sleep...

"There's no one here."

_"Alright, Sir. Thank you. Call us again if there is any trouble."_

"Yeah," Zitao agreed halfheartedly, hanging up and setting his phone on his bedside table. "I'll be sure to do that."

_If I'm not fucking dead._

He settled back down into the fuzzy, warm embrace of his blankets, every thought of the serial killer on the loose and of the imaginary intruder paling as the comforting lull of sleep pulled him under.

 

 

Zitao sat up, trying to slow the somewhat frantic beating of his heart.

_What the hell?_

Everything came into focus from the blur of unconsciousness and he swallowed, pressing two of his fingers to the bridge of his nose. 

_Must've been a nightmare. But what..?_

His chest tightened as the flash of hands around his neck, choking him over his own kitchen counter, came into his mind. A honey-haired boy was the one doing it, delicate features marking him as beautiful, but deadly. Zitao knew that face very well by now; it was on the news almost every night. Yifan was smart enough to not get caught for the homicides he had committed, but you can't keep your identity from the police secret forever. So, now that the cops had finally grasped some sort of identification for the murderer, they gave it the ultimate signal boost, notifying the entire subcontinent of Asia that Wu Yifan was a dangerous criminal and not to be helped and/or overlooked. If you even  _think_ you saw him, alert authorities immediately.

Zitao pushed back the blankets and clumped his way into his kitchen, pulling a glass out of the cabinet above the sink to fill with water. Having things like water glasses and furniture in general in a temporary apartment was a bit weird for him, but his parents had made arrangements for him to stay comfortably in Qingdao while he was on break from college. This, of course, meant a lot to him, as the city was his childhood home and he had been begging them to let him come back to see his old friends and to catch up on the fun. 

 _Still,_ he thought. _They didn't have to do all of this._

He turned and nearly choked on the water in his throat. A tall figure was standing in the shadows across from the little kitchen island. It was obvious that Zitao had walked right past it when he came in to get something to drink, but was he really that oblivious?

The soothing aura of the room shattered as Zitao flung his glass, still half-full of water, at the shadowy figure, attempting to slip by him without notice. But something gripped his arms and his legs tangled in themselves and he was sprawled out on the floor within seconds. The uncomfortable landing on the hard floor made his body ache and the air leave his lungs. He turned on his back, attempting to scurry out of reach from the stranger, but elegant fingers closed around his ankles and pulled him back into the darkness. A weight straddled him, pinning his arms above his head, something sharp being pressed against his throat.

"You shouldn't have thrown that water at me," the figure said, the voice male, but of course, Zitao should have known that.

"Doesn't matter, anyway," Zitao hissed back. "I lost."

"Yeah, you have," the guy agreed. He sounded almost amused, his low voice wrapped magnificently with humor and revelation. "I always win."

Zitao suddenly brought his head up, his forehead making contact with the other's and causing him to release the smaller boy beneath him as he instinctively pulled back to cradle his head. Zitao slipped through his hold, leaping to his feet and trying to reach his room. _If only he could make it to his phone..._

The intruder appeared a foot before him, catching him off guard. How was that even possible? Zitao's hand had been ready to _close around the doorknob._ But he couldn't think about it now, because this time, the man had stepped into some light, and Zitao could now clearly see him could clearly see Yifan.

The amber hair streaked with a burnt brown was temptingly disheveled, his mouth held in a sort of growl stance, like you would see on a dog. The corner of his top lip even trembled in the motion, a line of perfectly white teeth peeking from behind. He was so close to Zitao \- _so, so close_ \- and everything about him now seemed more relevant since this was now _Yifan_ and not someone else.

Zitao defiantly looked him in the face, his head tilting up to accomodate the small height difference. Yifan's lips went into a more polite position, aligning themselves into just a glare stance, but Zitao glared back. Yifan's chocolate-y eyes, his dominating broad shoulders, Jesus Christ, even his _smell_ , made him want to submit, but he refused to. 

Yifan noticed the difference in his attitude and it struck up a cord in him. Normally his victims were begging for their lives by now, his infamous reputation doing most of the work for him. The boy in front of him obviously recognized him, but why wasn't he pleading?

He grabbed a fistful of the delicate boy's ebony hair, ignoring how rich and silky it felt, pulling downward harshly. Zitao let out a cry, his knees giving out underneath him and landing on them, hard.

"What's your name?" Yifan asked him, still keeping a steady grip on the back of his head, but the hair was slipping through his fingers.

Zitao felt a bit confused. He personally wouldn't ask the name of someone he was going to kill, but it seemed by now that Yifan was a bit of a professional, so he was going to let him work.

"Zitao," he breathed, then swallowing, trying to slicken his throat some.

" _Zitao_ ," Yifan repeated, tasting the word. "Zitao, do you know who I am?"

He nodded in his grip and Yifan was reminded of a servant at the feet of his master. He reestablished his hold on the hair, making sure it wouldn't slip through his fingers again. The boy was watching him in what seemed almost like curiosity, his nearly black eyes swallowing the image. He looked so innocent with his eyes wide and his lips parted, and he was so _lovely_.

Pushing the admiring thoughts to the side, Yifan pulled at his hair, not pleased. Zitao winced, a small sound coming from those prettily parted lips.

"Answer me when I speak to you. _Do you know who I am?_ " Yifan demanded.

"Y-Yes," the boy responded, his eyes closed tightly in discomfort.

"Who am I?"

"Wu Yifan," came the reply.

Zitao's eyes fluttered open to meet the gaze of the older male above him, whose own eyes were narrowed in concentration. He seemed to realize he was being watched, however, and his face softened a miniscule amount, making him look less severe.

"Are you scared of me?" He asked. The air seemed thick and his breathing was steadily getting heavier.

"Should I be?" Zitao remarked, observing as Yifan's irises seemed to become nothing but pupil.

_Was it just Zitao, or was Yifan taking an awfully long time to kill him?_

"Yifan," he started, raising up higher on his knees and using the taller's steady thighs as support. "Are you going to kill me?"

Yifan's tongue proded one of his canine teeth as he pondered the question. "Maybe."

"Then why haven't you done it yet?"

"Maybe I want to fuck you first, have you thought of that?"

The sharp words hit Zitao like a slap and he turned his face away, but Yifan used his hand to make him look him in the face once again. Zitao remained quiet.

"I've told you to _answer me when I speak to you._ " He growled, and he pulled the boy's hair more, with such force that Zitao actually attempted to pull away.

"N-No!" He answered.

"Don't try to get away from me," Yifan snapped, pushing Zitao backwards.

He landed on his back with a soft  _ooft , _rather uncomfortably as well since his knees were still tucked underneath him. He made to correct his position, but someone was already doing it for him, winding his long legs around a hard waist. Yifan grinded into him slightly, making him writhe on the floor and his face burn in embarrassment that throughout the entire interaction with Yifan, he was already half-hard.

Yifan gasped when he felt it, then laughed. "Oh, you liar. You thought about it. You _want_ this."

"No, I don't," Zitao argued, but from the compromising position he was placed in and the hazey stare of his eyes, the remark didn't have much fire behind it.

Yifan placed his hands on the floor above Zitao's shoulders, rocking his body more against him. Zitao let out a soft whimper, even letting his hips come up to get more friction. The bliss didn't last long, though, and a sharp slap on the side of Zitao's face made his eyes flash open.

"I don't like liars, Zitao." He told him firmly. "Now, tell me what you really want."

"Please, _Yifan_..." He begged, as his mouth went down to his jaw, his tongue tracing one of the veins that stuck out prominently on the boy's neck. He could feel the pulse racing in it.

"What is it, baby? Tell me," he coaxed, moving his hips a little bit more. "Tell me what you want."

"P-Please, just," Zitao tried to form words but his mind was completely on the heat at his neck, the hardness between his legs. "F-Fuck."

"Fuck what?" He asked, his words flint. The unyielding nature was making Zitao weak.

"Me, fuck me," He gasped, and when Yifan heard what he wanted to, he bit down on his throat. He used his teeth to make endless red marks, some of them starting to exude trickles of blood. But Zitao wasn't upset by this at all; this is exactly what he wanted. Someone that took charge and bit him and made him beg and left him sore for days.

Yifan's mouth ghosted across the fresh wounds on his neck and he lost all train of thought, arching himself upwards, partly trying to get him to thrust against him again, partly trying to get him to go back to making him bleed. Instead, his mouth landed on Zitao's. The remnants of his own blood flowed into his mouth and he groaned into the kiss as Yifan's tongue swept the top of his mouth, tasting, and Zitao let him. He would let this man do anything to him, even if he was going to kill him afterwards. It'd be worth it.

Yifan bit down on his bottom lip, breaking the skin, and the kiss became even warmer as the tang of more of his own lifeblood entered it. Yifan sucked on the bottom lip, and when he pulled away to sit back up on his knees, red was smeared all over and around his mouth. Zitao felt the lustful urge to lick it away, but restrained. He knew he wasn't to do anything until Yifan told him to. 

"Strip," he commanded, and Zitao was eager to comply, pulling at every article of clothing he was wearing until he laid in front of him, naked, aching to be touched, to please, to do something, _anything_. Then  Yifan stood to his feet, kicking off his boots. "Now, strip me."

He stood as well, pushing Yifan's shirt up his chest slowly, his fingers admiring the hard muscle underneath, and then getting it over his head. He dropped to his knees, taking away Yifan's socks, and Yifan used Zitao's head carelessly as a support so he wouldn't fall. Next, he went to his jeans, using his tongue to slide upward to his navel as he unbuttoned them, making purposeful eye contact that made Yifan's cock twinge. As he lowered the jeans, he felt for Yifan's length through his boxers, and when he found it, he dropped his mouth and glided his tongue across him through the material.

"Keep teasing and I'll fuck your mouth so hard you won't be able to talk," Yifan warned, but still, he bit his lip, letting Zitao know that he was enjoying this immensely.

He pulled Yifan's jeans to the floor, followed by his boxers, then, despite Yifan's warning, continued to tease him with his lips, letting them barely slide against the side of his shaft, his tongue ghosting along it. Yifan let out a sound of annoyance, and he caved. He wrapped his mouth around the head of his leaking cock, sucking on it, then dipping down to let some more of the hard organ into the wet orifice, coating it with saliva. The salty taste of precum met his tongue as he swirled it around, and he let his mouth make lewd sounds, as if he was a whore in a brothel desperately trying to please his client.

Yifan bucked into his mouth, and Zitao braced himself by letting his hands circle the back of his thighs and stopping the suction in his mouth in time for the hard member to be forced down the back of his throat. He fought the urge to gag, allowing Yifan to bury himself in his mouth, tears stinging in his eyes from the sensation. Yifan pulled back out all the way, a mix of spit and precum starting to dribble down Zitao's chin, but that only made it easier for Yifan to slide back in.

He was merciless with him, showing Zitao that he meant what he had said about fucking his mouth until he wouldn't be able to talk. His throat contorted around him each time, Yifan's hand holding firm on the back of Zitao's head, even guiding him forward to meet the motion of his hips. Was it bad for Zitao to be enjoying this? His own untouched shaft was yearning for Yifan to touch him, but he wanted to please him first. He wanted to show Yifan that he was capable of a decent mouth-fucking, that he didn't complain and cough and sputter.

He made the feeble attempt at making some sort of suction to pleasure Yifan more, but then settled on giving little moans. The vibrations of the noises sent shivers of delight up Yifan's spine as he snapped his hips again into the boy's small mouth.

"Such a good boy," he praised. " _Fuck_ , such a good boy."

He abused Zitao's throat for a few more seconds, then pulled him back by his hair. Strings of drool were held between his hard member and the boy's red, swollen lips, giving a glint in the darkness. He knelt down, meeting those delectably mistreated lips with his own, his tongue tracing the outside of them and kissing him senseless. His hand wrapped around the shorter's neglected shaft, jerking him off slowly, and making Zitao whine into the kiss from want.

Yifan shoved him down to lay flat on his back, Zitao's hands steadily pulling at his flaxen hair while the barely-healed wound on his lip broke open again, the tang of blood shooting down his throat. Yifan lapped at the red liquid, fueling the sick sadist inside of him, and he let his hand abandon the boy's throbbing member. Zitao let out a sound of protest, but an acute slap to one of his thighs cut it off. Yifan spread his legs, observing the ring of muscle he would soon be forcing wide open with his cock.

"Suppose you don't have any lube, do you?" He joked lightly, but Zitao was far too gone to be making witty banter. Instead, he bucked his hips toward Yifan, silently begging for him to penetrate him already.

Yifan teasingly rubbed the head of his prick against the puckered opening, attempting to somewhat lubricate the entrance before completely obliterating the demure figure beneath him. This only caused Zitao to release some of the most lush sounds Yifan had ever heard, and it infuriated him for some reason. In one extreme thrust, he felt the entirety of the tight heat engulf him.

"Shit _,_ " he gasped. "So fucking tight."

He put his anger into fucking him useless, immediately pulling out only to make Zitao's body stretch around him again at breakneck speed. He pushed the boy's face to look at the wall, forcing it into the hard floor. His hand was so large that it was able to cover a good portion of his flushed cheek from the position it held on his neck, choking him, but there was not a single sound of complaint. He tightened his grip.

Zitao's back was sliding up the solid floor with each overwhelming thrust Yifan gave, making the skin there turn raw. He didn't have time to focus on that, though, as Yifan now had his mouth near his hand, sliding his tongue along Zitao's cheek to the shell of his ear. He could hear his labored breathing, suddenly becoming aware of the salacious sounds of their bodies meeting intensely. His entire sense system was on overload, and he moaned, his mouth agape, eyes clenched.

He heard Yifan chuckle. "Are you enjoying this, Zitao? Are you enjoying being my little whore?"

There was a whimper in reply, which made Yifan's hand tense on his fragile throat. Zitao gasped for air, realizing what he had done wrong and was desperate to correct it, desperate to do anything that please Yifan and keep him doing that sumptuous movement between his legs.

"Fuck, yes," he choked, and Yifan's grip lessened to let him talk. "Please don't stop, please."

"Good boy," Yifan commended, and Zitao wanted to purr under the approval.

His mouth swept over his ear, biting on the lobe harshly, and Zitao yelped. A short second later, Yifan angled his hips a fraction of inch differently, and it made the male beneath him absolutely squirm from delight.

" _Nggh_ ," managed, trying not to move so much, but he had seen white in the back of his head. " _Yi-f-fan_!"

Yifan felt what he had done, felt his shaft now firmly rubbing against the enlarged prostate in the tight canal, where he had only been hitting it occasionally in the prior position. Zitao's mouth had gone slack, his eyes fluttering open to reveal clouded orbs of mahogany. Each thrust of Yifan's hips had him giving a small whine of pleasure.

"Touch me," he practically cried. "Fuck, please, _touch me_!"

"No," Yifan said simply in reply, pounding into Zitao's small body with renewed vigor. "You're going to cum all around my cock untouched. You're going to show me how much of a little whore you are."

His index finger slipped into the corner of Zitao's mouth, and Zitao didn't hesitate to start sucking on it like he had just been rewarded with a piece of candy. Yifan's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he was reminded of the things the boy's mouth could do. Zitao watched the action with interest, watched Yifan's tongue brush across his upper lip as he relished in the feeling of Zitao's elegant lips wrapped around his nimble finger. He started to pull the finger in and out of his mouth, seeing a faint trace of blood on it from Zitao's earlier laceration.

Zitao wasn't sure how much more he could take. Warmth was pooling in his abdomen, inches above where the assault on his body was taking place. He could hear Yifan panting from the effort of it all, he could feel the red marks forming on his hips that would later turn black and blue from the roughness. He knew he shouldn't be enjoying this type of treatment, not from someone like Wu Yifan, but God, Yifan was going to make him -

"Fu-u-ck!" He shrieked, the word being torn from his lips in awkward gasps in the time of Yifan forcing his cock into his narrow frame. White ropes of hot semen spattered onto his belly and Yifan's chest, making the latter smirk knowingly as the tight warmth contracted around him rhythmically.

"Told you," he whispered, removing his hand from around Zitao's throat and substituting it with his mouth, biting and pulling at the skin on his strong jaw. "Little whore, _my_ little whore."

He pulled out and Zitao made a sound of mourning at the break of contact, but then he was being turned over onto his knees, his taunt derriere high in the air. He pushed it out at Yifan, biting his lip and allowing his head to look down just enough to see the older male's eyes flash in complete lust.

He took hold of his hair, giving it an almighty tug as he began the exquisite violation on his ass again, making Zitao moan and gasp even though he'd already came. The other broad hand gripped at the soft skin of his side, tearing into it and making it raw. This only made Zitao push back into his powerful thrusts, as Yifan's actions had made him hard again.

"Yi-Yifan," he wailed, miserable with pleasure. He could feel every vein of Yifan's dick rubbing against that swollen oval inside him. "Oh, God, _Yifa-an_!"

Zitao released again, this time spraying the hardwood floor with his cum. The choking of his inner walls made Yifan lose it, and he desperately grasped at the pliant flesh of Zitao's waist with both hands, his thrusts starting to come sloppy and quick.

"Ah, _shit_ ," he groaned, and Zitao could feel him unleashing spurt after spurt of thick cum in his ass, coating his insides. He gave a pleased sound.

He was roughly turned back onto his posterior, Yifan's lips frantically moving against his. Zitao's eyes quivered closed, relaxed at the movement of his smooth mouth, his talented tongue skillfully tracing over the bloodied rip in the flesh of his sore lip, giving a dull ache. Then his lips where gone, replaced by a firm grip around his throat.

His eyes shot open and he gasped for air. Yifan's face was steel, showing no remorse.

"Yifan," he heaved, struggling to form even that. "Please."

Yifan's eyes met his and his vision clouded until everything went quiet and black.

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first fic I ever wrote and honestly I am still so sorry for it lmao. see y'all in hell.


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